


Different Shades of Kaiju Blue

by RumHam



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, M/M, Mental Instability, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-18 11:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9383390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumHam/pseuds/RumHam
Summary: Newt and Hermann both deal with the aftermath of the drift in different ways.





	1. Chapter 1

The nightmares were relentless. Newt would wake up with loud, shuttering gasps, floundering to catch his breath in the stale air of the Shatterdome. His hair would be matted to his forehead with sweat, the military issue sheets clinging to his half naked body as he tried to gain his bearings. It would take several terrifying seconds to find his glasses, the small comfort of being able to see doing little to calm the thudding drumbeat of his heart. Every night, Newt would wake up to the feeling of dying.

The dream was different each night. It would come to him in the form of Trespasser rampaging through the streets of San Francisco. Other times, it was the face of Kaiceph as hordes of jets rained missiles down upon it. Sometimes, the scenes would shift so dramatically that Newt couldn't keep up. Another kaiju, another agonizing death. Often, the nightmares wouldn't even have a discernible form – just a mass of shockingly powerful emotions bombarding his brain at speeds that made his head spin and his stomach roll. Whatever shape the nightmares took, they always ended with Newt shooting out of bed in a panic, confused and terrified and praying for it all to end.

On most nights, he would be unable to go back to sleep. He had tried before, of course, but each attempt just left him falling right back into the same nightmare all over again. It had been little over a month since the closing of the Breach and Newt had barely logged a hundred hours of sleep. It was starting to wear him down. He began to notice aches in his joints that weren't there before, his concentration began to slip on a regular basis, and he found himself waking from dreamless power-naps in the most uncomfortable positions.

For the most part, all of this went unnoticed by the remaining staff at the 'dome. After Operation Pitfall's success, the world governments went into full-on recovery mode. It wasn't even a week before half of the facility was fully decommissioned and the employees were sent packing. Only a skeleton crew remained to monitor the Breach and prepare any final statements on the events. Newt took full advantage of this. It helped him stay off the radar; the last thing he wanted was to be poked and prodded by medical all because of some lousy nightmares.

The thought was nearly laughable to Newt, in a bitter sort of way. Him, with PTSD? That didn't seem fair, really. Bigger men than himself had fought and died in this war. Spilled their blood, sweat, and tears in the ocean trying to protect the world. How weak was he that this had fucked him up so bad? What had he done to warrant such a reaction? It seemed almost disrespectful to those who had every real right to be suffering.

Hermann seemed to be faring much better. Newt was torn between relief and jealousy at the concept. He was grateful that the mathematician hadn't suffered the same crippling side effects of the drift as he had, but at the same time he was painfully envious of the man's seemingly impenetrable psyche. Newt of course rationalized this with the simple fact that Hermann had only participated in the one drift, sharing the neural load with Newt to protect the smaller man from potentially killing himself the second time around. It was obvious, at least to Newt, that it was the first drift that was affecting him so strongly. He had shot himself head-first into the completely foreign mind of a monster from another dimension – it was no wonder he came out of the whole experience a little frazzled. As Herman was so quick to constantly remind him, it was a miracle Newt had survived at all.

Sometimes he wished he hadn't.

It was a Thursday morning when Newt walked into the lab to find Hermann hunched over a scattered pile of paperwork, ink pen gripped in his hands so tightly his knuckles were turning white as he mumbled angrily to himself under his breath. Everything about his body language screamed 'pissed-off.' Hermann's shoulders were taught with tension and his eyes were screwed up at the edges. It wasn't uncommon to find the man in a grumpy mood, but something about the way the Hermann was grumbling put Newt on edge. Cautiously sneaking into the lab, Newt tried to make it to his desk before the mathematician noticed him. It didn't work.

“Where have you been all morning?” Hermann practically growled, not bothering to look up from his desk. “The Marshal wanted our final reports on his desk _three_ hours ago. I've already filed mine, but making sense of the chicken-scratch you call handwriting has been impossible!”

Newt's defenses automatically went up, unaware that hidden beneath that last sentence was Hermann's attempt to actually help the biologist along with his own paperwork. “I slept in a bit! I probably would've had this shit done hours ago if I was able to get more than two hours of sleep; but what would you know about that?”

Hermann finally raised his head to glare at him, and it was then that Newt saw the purple bags under his eyes – no doubt mirroring his own heavy lids. Newt had never seen the man look so worn out, even in the final days leading up to Operation Pitfall. Hermann's voice dropped to something almost resembling sympathy, “I am well aware of how little sleep you are getting, Newton – I can feel your thoughts through the drift every time I close my eyes.”

Whatever retort Newt had got caught in his throat. He swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly dry as a bone, and scoffed before heading toward the back of the lab and the waiting coffee pot. A small pang of guilt rose in his chest as he saw that the pot was already brewed and waiting. Hermann never drank coffee, so he never bothered to start the pot.

“I assumed you would need it,” he called over his shoulder.

Newt tossed him a grateful nod before pouring himself a steaming cup and adding more sugar than was probably healthy. The warmth of the coffee mug kept him grounded as he shuffled over to his cluttered desk. Several notes were scattered over the surface, half of them illegible even to himself. It was amazing that Hermann had managed to sort through them at all. He picked halfheartedly at one of them, looking more for something to keep his hands busy with than anything else. The normally tense silence between them was almost comfortable.

It took Newt a minute to swallow what was left of his pride before he hesitantly said, “Thanks for trying to help me out with all of...this.”

He wanted to ask how much more work had to be done, but Hermann seemed to read his mind because he answered before he got the chance. “I have managed to organize what I could of your notes. However, as you know, biology is far from my field of study. It should be easy enough for you to write up your report now, though.”

“Thanks, dude. You have no idea how much that helps me-”

“Please, do not even mention it,” Hermann cut him off with a slight sigh, already knowing where Newt was going with that sentence.

Newt didn't know what to say after that. This whole situation was entirely foreign to him. A month ago, Hermann would be shouting about this very thing; he'd be waving his cane around and belittling him in that condescending way that seems to just come naturally to the mathematician. Since their shared drift, though, their relationship had morphed into something almost resembling an actual friendship. After years of working beside the eternally grumpy man, Newt had become accustomed to their routine. He even secretly enjoyed the shouting matches a bit – it did surprisingly great things to help his work along. Newt wasn't unhappy with the change (he had been hoping for years that Hermann would open up a bit), but it came on so suddenly that Newt was having a bit of a hard time adjusting.

He nodded his thanks again and made his way over to Hermann's desk to go through the paperwork needed to finish his final report. As he picked up the stack of papers, Newt couldn't help but notice what appeared to be a handwritten letter penned in Herman's delicate cursive. It was addressed to Vanessa. Not wanting to pry, he pretended not to see the letter and made his way back to his own desk on the other side of the lab.

“I'll just get started on this, then.” Newt grinned tiredly, watching as Herman rose to his feet and grabbed the cane that was perched against his desk. “I should be able to have it done within the hour.”

“I am sure the Marshall will not mind too much; after all, he is accustomed to your perpetual procrastination by now.” There was the Hermann that Newt was used to. Rather than taking it as an offense, Newt couldn't help but smile. “I'm heading down to the mess hall for a quick bite. Is there anything you would like me to bring back?”

“Nah, dude, I'm good with just coffee.”

“Suit yourself.”

And with that, Hermann was gone. Newt couldn't tell if it was just his imagination, but the lab seemed to grow just a bit colder without the man's presence. He rubbed his tired eyes and with a low groan got to work.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Newt stood examining himself in front of the dingy mirror in the small bathroom of his dorm. The lights were dim; he was too afraid to see his reflection in proper lighting. He looked tired – more than that, he almost looked like the walking dead. His skin was pale to the point of looking sickly and his hair was damp from sweat. Yet another nightmare had woken him just moments previously. He pulled gently at his left eyelid, peering at the still hemorrhaged eyeball beneath. Hermann's had faded almost completely, but Newt's was still just as bloodshot as ever. The deep, nearly bruised bags under his eyes didn't help, either.

He reached into the medicine cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Adderall that he had bought from one of the J-Techs a few months back. At the time, he only used them to power through his all-night work sessions, but recently Newt found himself needing the pep just to get through the day. Coffee and over-the-counter stimulants just weren't cutting it anymore. The next bottle he reached for was his prescription of Lamictal which he begrudgingly took. He swallowed both pills dry before splashing water on his face and heading back into his room.

Newt's normally cluttered room looked like a tornado had run through it. Dirty clothes covered most of the floor, a few articles even thrown about on his desk chair. The desk itself was blanketed with more sloppy notes and a handful of drawings that he had sketched up what felt like a lifetime ago. His bed hadn't been redressed in days.

Picking a shirt and pair of pants off the floor that didn't smell too horribly, he quickly dressed and headed out to face the day. Or, at least, he was going to – but there was a frantic banging on his door before he got the chance to open it.

Newt opened the door to find a frazzled Tendo bracing himself lightly in the jamb. He was panting a bit, as though he had just run the whole way to Newt's room. “Jesus, brother, where have you been? The Marshal is having a mandatory meeting up in LOCCENT right now. Didn't you get the memo?”

It was clear by the biologist's face that he had no idea what Tendo was talking about. The J-Tech Chief continued, “Well, c'mon man, let's go.”

Before Newt could respond, Tendo grabbed him by the arm and began to drag him down the hallway. As they rounded the corner into the Jeager Bay Newt, struggling to keep up with the lithe man's pace in his exhausted state, finally asked, “What's going on? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing too serious, I think. All I know is that it involves all of us, and apparently it's very important that we're all in attendance.”

LOCCENT was packed to capacity with the remaining Shatterdome staff, all of them forming a circle around the newly appointed Marshall Hansen. Newt spotted Raleigh and Mako standing toward the front, both wearing concerned faces. Off to the side, practically hidden in the sea of people, he saw Hermann standing alone. Newt shuffled his way over to his lab partner and they shared a quick look before turning their attention to the Marshal.

“Now that everyone's _finally_ here, we can actually get started.” He began in an authoritative voice. “As I'm sure all of you know, the PPDC have declared that our job here at the Shatterdome is complete. They have cut the majority of the funding already, leaving just enough to keep the power running until we're packed up and out of here. They're only giving us another two weeks.”

A rumble of groans and gasps spread about the room. Of course they all knew their time here was over, but nobody was prepared for it to happen so quickly. Hermann felt a pang of anxiety course down his spine and when he glanced at Newt he saw that the shorter man was trembling slightly.

The Marshal went on to explain the details of what needed to be accomplished before the final closing of the Shatterdome but Newt had already tuned the man out. A strange sort of static seemed to fill his ears and he felt his heart-rate speed up. By the time the speech was done, the corner of Newt's vision had begun to turn black. Years of experience had taught Newt that he was quickly heading toward a panic attack.

The room cleared out quickly, only the two remaining Jeager pilots and the heads of the K-Science Department remained. After a moment Mako walked over to Newt and Hermann, offering up a slight bow in condolence. Hermann returned the gesture but Newt just stood there, still shaking slightly and staring straight ahead as if his mind was elsewhere.

“We'll all have to go out for drinks before they ship us out,” Raleigh offered up, trying to break the thick moment with a bit of humor.

“Yes, we must,” Hermann answered. Still very much aware of his partner's apparent distress, he hooked his arm through Newt's loosely. “I am terribly sorry for taking leave so early, but I believe we have some work to attend to down in the lab.”

Newt wasn't even aware as Hermann began to guide him gently out of the room. By the time they got halfway down the hall, Newt's breath began to come in short, panic stricken puffs. The lingering connection from the drift was causing Herman to feel a minor panic himself, so he quickly sat Newt down on a nearby bench. “Do you need me to get you some of your diazepam?”

All Newt could do was nod his head anxiously, his eyes still glossy as he struggled to focus on anything. In a pace that would seem impossible given his limp, Hermann quickly made his way down the hall and toward Newt's room.

Immediately Newt's anxiety rose tenfold. Something about having Hermann so close was comforting, and with him now gone Newt found himself slipping into a full-blown panic attack. His thoughts were racing so fast he could barely hold on to one long enough to process them. What was he going to do now? With the Jaeger Program officially done with, the crushing weight of the future that Newt had been trying so desperately to bury deep in the back of his mind was rearing its ugly head. He suddenly felt very lost. It felt as if his entire world was being ripped out from under his feet.

Thankfully, it didn't take Hermann too long to return with a single blue pill and a Styrofoam cup of water. He passed both of them to his panic-stricken partner but Newt choose to swallow the Xanax dry, pulling a face as the bitter, chalky taste ran across his tongue and down his throat. His fingers gripped his knees tightly as he waited for the medication to take affect. In an uncharacteristic display of compassion, Hermann gingerly sat down on the bench beside Newt and pried his fingers away, threading his own spindly digits through them. It was the coolness of Herman's hand against his burning one that pulled Newt out of himself and he turned toward the mathematician with a grateful half-smile. After a few short minutes, he felt the benzo begin to kick in and his entire body seemed to physically relax just a bit.

Beyond just seeing it, Hermann could mentally feel the man's anxiety begin to decrease.

“Better?” he ventured to ask. Newt, still feeling shaken up, managed a tense nod. “Let's go find you someplace a bit more quiet.”

They made their way back to the lab (the only place he knew for sure would be empty), Hermann practically holding the biologist up. As soon as they walked through the door, Newt shuffled over to his desk chair and plopped limply down into it. He swiveled around lazily until he was staring up at the now dead kaiju brain that had set this whole miserable experience into motion. The organ seemed to loom over him and Newt couldn't help but feel that it was taunting him for his stupidity.

“Would...you like to talk about it?” Hermann asked tentatively.

Mesmerized, Newt dragged his eyes away from the tank. The anxiety had since faded, only to be replaced with a smoldering frustration that was quickly turning into anger. “No.” he cleared his throat. “No, I'm good.”

As poor as his social skills may be, Hermann knew when to not push a certain matter. Just as he turned to retreat back to his own desk, he was stopped by a strangled, near sob from Newt. Herman turned around quickly to face his partner, jarring his hip with the sudden motion. Newt was still slouched in his chair but now his eyes were welling with tears. Hermann practically gaped at the lost look in Newt's eyes.

“I'm sorry,” Newt choked suddenly. It was taking all of his strength to keep from breaking down completely. “It's...it's just that I don't know what's going to happen from here. I don't know what to do. I can't just stop the research that I've dedicated my life to! There's so much more work to be done! So much more we can learn from this! Just think of the possibilities! Then there's the question of the Breach! What caused it in the first place? Can we harvest that sort of technology ourselves? Or...Or what if the Precursors decided to open up a second Breach? They did it once, it seems pretty likely to me that they'd do it again! I mean, wouldn't you?”

As he spoke, the volume of his voice began to rise and the words began to spill from his mouth a mile a minute. Then, almost like switching channels, Newt's voice dropped to a near whisper. “This has been my entire life for so many years now. I can't...I can't just let it be over. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself now. Especially when...when I haven't even had the chance to really accomplish...”

Newt stopped without finishing the sentence, heaving in a hiccuped breath. The tears he had tried so hard to hide finally began to stream down his face. He scrubbed angrily at his eyes with the palms of his hands, pushing his now smudged glasses up into his hair.

Hermann could sense the despair flowing off Newt in waves, it was like being washed away in a warm current. He took a few unsure steps toward his partner, respectably leaving enough space between them while still managing to be close. “Newton, you have accomplished more in the last year than most people will in three lifetimes. And, yes, this wretched war is finally over, but that doesn't mean that you are. There is so much left to do – that _you_ can do – to continue changing the world.”

Newt looked up, his lip quirked up slightly at the corner in something almost resembling a smile. That smile didn't reach his eyes, though. Of course his life wouldn't be over. He could do just about anything he wanted at this point. Teaching job with tenure? Easy. Head a biological testing lab? No problem. Hell, he could probably kick back and spend the rest of his life drinking daiquiris on a beach somewhere. That wasn't what had Newt so concerned. It was the intrusive thoughts that invaded his mind every waking hour. It was the nightmares that haunted him in his sleep. It was the sick, disturbing thoughts and urges that he tried so desperately to ignore. He knew these thoughts were not his own, but they were yelling in such a high frequency in his mind it was getting harder and harder to focus on much else.

“That's not all it is, though, is it?” Newt hated it when Herman seemed to read his mind. It had been going on for years but had become increasingly more common since the drift.

“No, it's not,” Newt confessed but refused to elaborate. How could he possibly explain that there was a voice in the back of his head telling him that this whole thing really wasn't over? That something even bigger was coming? That it was coming for him? No. Newt could never tell him about that. It's not as though the world's top physicist was going to actually listen to paranoid delusions of a madman. Newt couldn't blame him, really. He knew he was being delusional. And that made it so much worse.

They had fought back the monsters from the Breach; but how do you fight the monsters in your own mind?

Hermann let the silence between them linger for a bit. After a moment, he plucked Newt's glasses from where they rested on top of his head and wiped them off gently with the handkerchief he always seemed to keep in his pocket. Handing them back to his partner, he said, “The world, it seems, has finally been given the chance to rest. Perhaps you should as well.”

Newt huffed out a heavy sigh. As if being given permission, his shoulders seemed to slump slightly as all of the stress and tension faded from his body. He rolled his neck, grimacing as the joints popped and clicked in a way that they never had before, and tried to relax into his chair. The massive weight that had been pressing down on his body for so long now seemed to lift, if only slightly. It could have been the sedative effect of the Xanax starting to kick in, but Newt felt as though for the first time in months he could finally shut his eyes in peace.

“Yeah, ya'know, I think I'm gonna try laying down for a bit,” he bit back the urge to yawn.

“If the Marshall or anyone else comes looking for you, I'll make sure to come up with an adequate excuse for your absence.” Hermann smiled. “Perhaps I'll tell them you're currently neck-deep in a pile of Kaiju excrement.”

For the first time in days, Newt cast a genuine smile. He dragged himself dramatically from his chair. “Thanks, Herms.”

 

* * *

 

As soon as Newt walked through the heavy steel door of his quarters his body collapsed boneless on the bed. He followed the cracks in his ceiling for a while, willing his heavy eyes to close; but his mind would grant him no such peace. Already, he could hear the distant rumbling from the deepest corners of the ocean. It was building steadily, drowning out everything else until it was washing over his entire being in waves. He couldn't tune it out no matter how hard he tried. The Kaiju were angry with him. He could feel the weight of their anger pressing down on his chest, suffocating and crushing. In the dim light of his room Newt could have sworn he saw something move, writhing in the shadows just out of view. There was a quick flash of luminescent blue. An eyelid rolled open in the dark, a glowing, monstrous eye glaring down at him.

Newt opened his mouth to scream; or, at least, he tried to. It took every ounce of his physical strength to try and work his jaw open but in the end he only managed a single centimeter. His whole body, everything except his eyes, was paralyzed with fear, forcing him to lock eyes with the monster in front of him. The creature seemed to be judging him, the rumbling in the room now a deafening roar. Newt's heart began to hammer as he began hyperventilating, still unable to open his mouth and get more air. This thing was going to kill him! Somehow the Precursors had re-opened the Breach and sent this ugly bastard to find him! Just like Otachi, it was going to eat him alive!

Suddenly, like a rush of freezing water, the air rushed back into Newt's lungs and he literally shot up in bed, half-bent and grasping desperately at his knees. The darkness seemed to swirl around him, his head spinning right along with it. No matter how deeply he tried to breathe he couldn't seem to draw enough air into his lungs. He rolled over and clawed at the bed for his glasses, which had been thrown from his head when he regained the ability to move. The panic was still coursing through every muscle in his body. He wasn't even aware that the room had grown quiet.

 

He felt the strong need to move and after finally grabbing his glasses Newt practically jumped out of the bed. He spun around several times, searching for the monster he could have sworn was there just a second ago. Grabbing his chest and willing his heart to settle, Newt flicked on the small lamp beside his bed. The room was completely empty.

After taking several shuttering breaths, he grumbled, “Jesus, what the fuck was that?”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here's chapter two. This one is written more from Hermann's perspective. It'll jump back and forth between the two of them throughout the story.

 

Hermann was starting to worry about Newton. Well, that wasn't entirely true – he always worried about the younger man, even when he pretended not to. Newton was reckless. He seemed to bounce through the world with the force of a hurricane, blindly pushing ahead without a single care for the consequences of his actions. At first, Newton's near-manic behavior put Hermann on edge in ways he couldn't even begin to describe. Never one to be known for his patience, Hermann found himself increasingly frustrated as he was forced to spend more time working with the biologist. It was like babysitting a hyperactive twelve year old hopped up on sweets.

It took nearly three years for Hermann to finally accept Newton as he was – but that didn't mean he had to approve of the man's actions. Despite their frequent spats, their relationship had slowly developed into one of companionable coworkers. It wasn't even close to being considered a friendship, but it was better than being enemies. The rest of the Shatterdome had always pictured their relationship as something volatile, but Hermann knew that was far from the truth. They were both adults - even though Newton behaved less like one than most. They were both working toward a common goal and were more than capable of getting along when the moment called for it.

That all changed with the drift.

When Hermann was swept up in that powerful wave of blue he got a glimpse into Newton's life that he had never felt the urge to explore. He couldn't help the embarrassing blush that would creep up his neck at the thought of what Newton could have possibly seen on his end. Hermann considered himself a private man and in less than a minute he felt like his entire life was put on display for his lab partner to see. Thankfully, Newton kept quiet about whatever he had seen – acting as though nothing had changed between them. He knew that it was all a front, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

Hermann couldn't ignore, though, the near constant connection with his lab partner. Newton had always shifted between one powerful emotion and another at lightning speeds and he wasn't very good at hiding it, but with this new bond between them Hermann found himself getting caught up in the other man's emotions as well. He wasn't accustomed to such strong feelings, and when they came on they seemed to hit Hermann like a ton of bricks. And it was only getting worse. Since the drift, Newton seemed to be having a harder time reigning in his emotions than usual.

To counteract this new development, Hermann threw himself head-first into his work. There was no longer a need for Jaeger coding but there was still plenty of information to be gathered from the Breach. Numbers had always been the one constant in Hermann's life and it was comforting that they would always be there for him to fall back on. Not only did it give him a sense of purpose, it helped make him feel more in control. In control over the chaos that surrounded him on a near daily basis. If he was distracted by his work, he wouldn't have to deal with whatever was challenging his resolve that day. However, his equations could only distract him for so long.

 

* * *

 

Hermann had been cooped up in the lab for well over six hours when he decided he needed a break. He hadn't seen Newton since the following evening and although a small part of him was concerned by this, Herman made a conscious effort not to be alarmed. Even before this whole mess, the biologist was prone to disappearing for hours if not days on end. It was any wonder how the man had managed to keep his job at all.

It was in the mess hall where Hermann ran into Mako. She was sitting alone at the end of a long line of tables, a half-full tray of food sat before her undisturbed. Even though she seemed composed, it was clear to Hermann that she had just gotten done crying. Grabbing a tray of his own, he decided to join her.

“Dr. Gottlieb,” Mako greeted quietly, cracking a large (albeit pretentious) smile and bowing slightly in greeting. Hermann had always respected the way the small Japanese girl managed to seem so strong, no matter the circumstance.

“Ms. Mori,” he returned the bow. Hermann spent a minute pushing the food around his plate, waiting for Mako to feel comfortable enough to talk about whatever was weighing so heavily on her mind. It took less time than he had expected.

“I had never imagined a life after the war,” she began quietly. “I suppose a part of me didn't want to think about it.”

Shortly after the closing of the Breach, Mako had confessed to Hermann the strong bond she had shared with Marshal Pentecost. While the news came as little surprise, everyone knew there was something deeper there than a standard teacher/pupil relationship, it added a whole new layer to the already heavy feeling of loss that lingered in the air.

After a minute she continued. “Now, though, I find myself wondering how things could have turned out. How different things would be if the Marshal-”

She cut herself off there, choking back a fresh wave of tears. Hermann reached across the table and placed a comforting hand on her wrist. “We have all lost something in this war, some more than others.”

Mako nodded in agreement. “I am thankful that it is over.”

A complacent silence grew between them as they both began to eat. Soon after, Raleigh came down the stairs and made a beeline for their table, a large grin plastered on his face. “Everything alright over here?”

Both pilots shared a look and Hermann knew they were sharing something through the Drift.

“Yes, quite,” Hermann spoke up for them both.

“Great,” Raleigh turned to the physicist with a genuine smile. “We're going out tonight for those drinks. You coming?”

“I, uhm-”

“Oh come on, you can't keep yourself locked up in this place forever. Besides, in just over a week we may never see each other again.”

Although bittersweet, Hermann couldn't deny that Raleigh had a point. “Yes, I suppose you are correct. What time are you proposing?”

“Nine?” He questioned, casting a glance at both of them. Hermann shrugged while Mako nodded, “It's settled, then. Nine o'clock. By the way, have you seen Newt at all today? I wanted to see if he was going to join us, but I can't seem to catch him.”

“I haven't seen him in a while,” Hermann answered, the mild concern he had forgotten about beginning to rise once more. “I believe he is resting.”

“Well if you see him, make sure you relay the message,” Raleigh smiled.

The table dissolved into small-talk and before long Hermann excused himself, citing that he had a report to file. In truth, he was going to find his lab partner. Although inexperienced, he tried to feel his way to Newton through the drift. It proved to be problematic at best. Newton's personality had his presence jumping around throughout Hermann's mind, making it impossible to to determine exactly which direction they were coming from. Weighing his odds, he headed toward Newton's barrack.

The heavy steel door to Newton's room was sealed tight when he got there. Hermann placed his ear to the door, trying in vain to hear anything on the other side. The silence stretched on uncomfortably. Perhaps the biologist was finally sleeping. A nagging feeling in the back of Hermann's mind told him that probably wasn't the case.

Leaning most of his weight on his cane, Hermann knocked three times. When there wasn't an answer, he knocked again. Just as he was about to turn around and proceed to look elsewhere, he heard the lock begin to turn and the door slowly opened. Newton stood before him a disheveled mess, wearing the same clothes from the day before. His eyes were bloodshot and it was clear that he still hadn't been getting any sleep.

“Yeah, what'd'ya want?” The question was only half annoyance, mostly the man just sounded tired.

“I've come to make sure you hadn't killed yourself by now.” It was meant to be a joke (although, in hindsight, one in poor taste) but Newton's slight flinch made him instantly regret saying it.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Newton glared.

Quickly recovering, Hermann continued, “Mr. Beckett and Ms. Mori have requested our presence for drinks this evening.”

“Are you gonna go?” quirking an eyebrow, Newton crossed his arms and tried to convey a sense of leisure as he leaned against the door jamb.

“Yes, I'll be in attendance.”

Hermann half expected him to turn down the invitation. While Newton was usually one to jump at the opportunity for a night on the town, his recent behavior made him think that he would rather be attempting to isolate himself all evening. Hermann was happily surprised, then, when Newton asked what time he should be ready.

 

* * *

 

The small bar was dark and cast aside from the rest of the city. Resting between two dilapidated buildings and halfway down a dark alleyway in a residential neighborhood, Tai Lung Fung was surprisingly busy. Hermann supposed he shouldn't be surprised. In the aftermath of the war there were two types of people – those looking to celebrate and those who needed to drown their losses with a stiff cocktail. The place seemed to be packed to the brim with both.

It took Hermann's eyes a minute to adjust to the dim red lighting of the tavern, but once they did he quickly spotted the group he came looking for. Raleigh, Mako and Tendo were crammed around a tall table off to the side but close enough to the bar to get their drinks quickly. He scanned the room looking for Newton but saw no sign of his lab partner.

“Dr. Gottlieb, glad you could join us!” Mako called as he approached their table. He smiled at each of them in turn before taking a seat. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Ah, I'll just wait for a server to come by, no need to bother you.”

“It is no inconvenience,” she smiled. “You will be sitting here forever waiting on a server, they're so busy.”

With a grateful nod, he replied, “In that case, I suppose I'll take a scotch. Neat.”

As she walked off toward the bar, Tendo clapped a friendly hand on his back that nearly sent Hermann reeling. “I didn't expect you to actually come!”

“Well, I couldn't very well miss the party of the century,” he smiled with a bit of embarrassment. Herman wasn't much of a bar-goer but even he couldn't deny it felt good to get out of the Shatterdome for a while. “Have either of you two seen Newton? He assured me that he would-”

“I brought shots, bitches!” Newton suddenly skipped up to their table with four colorful shot glasses in his hands. “Oh, hey Hermann! I'm surprised your crotchety ass actually showed up! Here, I didn't get you one, so take mine!”

Hermann was about to protest but Newton shoved the drink into his hand before he got the chance. “I'll be right back with one more. If any of you drink yours before I get back I'm gonna be seriously pissed!”

Newton winked and turned around to leave. He must have run into Mako at the bar because they returned arm in arm a minute later. She placed Hermann's scotch down on the table before lifting her shot in the air and the others quickly followed suit.

“What are we toasting to?” Hermann asked.

Mako paused for a second before saying with a bittersweet smile, “To canceling the apocalypse.”

“To canceling the apocalypse!”

They all cheered and downed their shots, each pulling a unique face at the taste. Surprisingly, Hermann seemed to handle the liquor better than all of them. From there the festivities were in full swing. Newton sat enamored as he listened to Raleigh describe the final battle against Slattern, already dreaming up the tattoo he would soon be getting of the mighty beast. It was nice to seem him smile again. Hermann and Tendo discussed their plans for after the closing of the Shatterdome, the LOCCENT Officer planning to return to the states to finally begin building his life with his family. Hermann found himself loosening up a bit and actually enjoying himself.

Newton, for his part, spent his time rushing back and forth to the bar to provide more shots - “It's on me, guys!” - determined to get every single one of them as drunk as possible. It was after the fifth round that Mako called it quits. Raleigh only made it two more.

“They're good kids,” Tendo grinned as the two Rangers made their exit. Hermann nodded in agreement. After the trials they had been through they both deserved a break. Hermann only took slight notice as Newton took that moment to wander into the throng of people lingering in the bar. “So, when are you and Newt gonna finally hook up?”

Hermann nearly spat out his drink. “I haven't the faintest idea of what you're talking about.”

“Sure,” he smiled knowingly.

The mathematician caught site of Newton bouncing around the dance floor, flailing about wildly with reckless abandon. Hermann envied that quality in the younger man. It seemed that he didn't have a care in the world, despite some of the rather nasty looks he was getting. At the same time, it had him slightly concerned. Newton had been displaying some serious symptoms of emotional instability as of late and Hermann was worried that this high note that he was floating on would quickly disintegrate. He knew from experience that any strong feeling, whether positive or negative, would ultimately exhaust the man emotionally. A bass heavy dance song was pouring loudly from the speakers and Hermann watched as Newton sidled up against a young (admittedly handsome) Chinese man.

“So, how old's your boy now?” Hermann cleared his throat and changed the topic. Tendo tactfully allowed the subject of Hermann's personal life drop and they moved on to another subject.

While Hermann was engaged in the conversation, he couldn't help but watch Newton out of the corner of his eye. He never returned to the table.

Tendo took his leave a half-hour later, saying something about how there wasn't enough coffee in the world to treat tomorrow's hangover before sauntering out of the bar and into the waiting cab outside. Hermann had offered to pick up the check for their last few drinks and as he made his way up to the bar to pay he bumped into Newton. He laughed as they collided and Hermann couldn't help but notice that his fingers were linked tightly with the man beside him.

“I believe it's time for me to take my leave,” Hermann shouted over the music, which seemed to be louder on this side of the bar, silently hoping that Newton would join him. “Would you care to share a taxi back with me?”

“Nah man, I'm gonna hang out with Li Yong here for a bit,” Newton grinned drunkenly, wrapping an arm around the slightly taller Chinese man beside him. Hermann tried to hide his disappointment.

“Right. Yes. Well, I'll just get to it, then.” He hated how he stumbled over his words.

After he paid and turned to leave, he heard Newton shout behind him, “Don't wait up, Herms!”

Hermann hated the feeling of jealousy that rose up from his stomach. He didn't bother to turn around.

 

* * *

 

Hermann had more to be worried about than Newton's extracurricular activities. After all, despite appearing otherwise, the younger man was capable of taking care of himself.

Because of the downsizing of staff, the Shatterdome was blanketed in silence as Hermann returned to his personal barracks. He had become so used to the constant movement of the floating base that the silence seemed almost deafening. Needing a distraction from the lack of noise, Hermann made his way over to a small table-top speaker and turned it on - Brahms' Paganini Variations softly filling the room in stark contrast to the loud music of the bar from before. A heavy buzz, though nowhere near drunk, had settled over him as he sat down at his desk and opened his email. Several messages clogged his inbox, but only one caught his eye. It was from Vanessa and it was marked 'Urgent.'

His hand began to tremble slightly as he moved to open the message. Five months earlier, Vanessa had called with the news that she was pregnant. It lined up perfectly with his last visit home the previous season and although he was happy to hear the news, at the time Hermann couldn't help but display his dissatisfaction at this turn in events. Now was not the time to bring a child into this world, he had wrongfully scolded her. He knew that his anger was displaced, that he was just frustrated with his job and the ever increasing number of kaiju attacks; but still he ended up treating her as if this were all her fault. She didn't talk to him for close to a month after that.

Now that the war was officially over, Hermann finally allowed himself to feel the excitement that he had been avoiding. He was going to be a father, to a beautiful baby girl no less, and the idea of that was both terrifying and elating. She was due to deliver in a few week's time and Hermann was looking forward to being there every step of the way.

His eyes quickly scanned over the message, his mind automatically homing in on the words 'doctors,' 'complications,' and 'terrified.' Hermann's heart began to hammer as he read the message three times over. The baby was fine; she had to be fine. Vanessa had recently been showing signs of preeclampsia but the doctors had assured them that they would fade after the birth. While terrifying, it was manageable. According to the email, though, the symptoms were only getting worse.

Chest tight, he practically jammed his finger down on the 'Vidcall' option on the computer and clicked on Vanessa's contact. It rang several times with no answer. It was only eight in the evening in Berlin, there was no reason for her not to pick up. Hermann tried calling several more times, panic rising in his chest with each unanswered ring. Suddenly, the concerto music that had normally provided him peace was now loud and aggravating, and Hermann found himself across the room and throwing the offending speaker against the wall. He tried to stifle his anger as he sat back down and reopened his email. He quickly typed out a desperate response, hitting the 'Send' button while simultaneously gnawing at a hangnail on his left hand. 

Hermann sat up the remainder of a night, his terror only growing as Vanessa's response never came.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughhh okay. This chapter was a lot harder to write than I was anticipating. I'm having a much harder time getting into Herman's head than Newt's.
> 
> That being said, one little side note: according to the PR Wiki, Hermann and Vanessa have a child on the way. I don't see this mentioned too often in fics (but that could just be because I usually look for Newt/Hermann ship fics hah) but I figured I'd throw it in here to make this as cannon-compliant as possible. 
> 
> Also, this story may contain time-skips. I'm not entirely sure yet (hooray for WiPs) but be prepared for the possibility. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Some nights, Newt had a hard time differentiating between happiness and satisfaction. Apathy was funny like that. It seemed as though if he wasn't caught in the throws of some powerful emotion, he wasn't feeling anything at all. There never appeared to be a middle-ground. Often, this left him feeling a bit lost. For a long time he questioned how it was possible for a person to feel absolutely nothing, but years of therapy had taught him that sometimes he just had to radically accept the world for what it was. And if that world was gray, so be it.

So he took every opportunity to be happy and ran with it. That's what he had intended to do that night.

When Li Yong lead him to a party in the Tai Hang district, ten kilometers from the now abandoned racetrack, Newt was expecting a raucous good time. What he got instead was a dilapidated apartment building and a small group of college-age kids. The atmosphere was rather subdued compared to what he was used to, but Newt embraced the experience fully. The steady stream of baijiu definitely helped. In all his time at the Hong Kong Shatterdome, he had never had the chance to go out and actually enjoy the city. Not that there was very much to enjoy since the kaiju attacks, but still.

It was shorty after three in the morning when the liquor finally began catching up to him and Newt found himself following Li Yong into one of the small bedrooms of the apartment. The younger man hadn't been shy about flirting with Newt throughout the night and in a post-war world it was easy to abandon your inhibitions. It had been so long since Newt had somebody look at him the way Li Yong had – all lust and desire – that he found himself blindly clutching onto that sensation. Sometimes he just needed to be wanted.

He felt touch-starved, both physically and emotionally. The attention, even without any true personal connection, was something that Newt needed to survive. It made him feel like he mattered when every other waking moment had him walking through life as if he was a ghost and it was a welcome distraction from all of the bullshit he carried around with him every day.

When he finally felt himself getting lost in pure sensation, he didn't have to think about what could be happening elsewhere. That's why, when a massive wave of dread washed over him halfway through sexy times, Newt found himself hastily stumbling off the bed and subsequently falling face first onto the floor. It was like being punched in the chest.

While Newt was fairly used to being stricken with sudden and unpleasant mood swings, this was on an entirely new level of wrongness. It took him several panicked moments to realize that what he was feeling wasn't even coming from him.

“Did I do something wrong?” Li Yong asked, staring down at him with a confused look on his face.

Newt couldn't focus on the younger man as the room suddenly pitched violently on its side, his stomach rolling right along with it. He felt himself gag (please don't throw up, please don't throw up) and pushed himself off the floor on legs that felt like jell-o. He wanted to cry and he didn't even know why. Newt tripped over his feet as he stumbled toward the door.

It was when his hand grabbed for the handle that he remembered the man on the bed behind him. Newt cast an apologetic look his way, “No, sorry. You're good. It's-it's just...Sorry, I've gotta get out of here. It's been great.”

He didn't wait for a response before pushing his way through the crowd in the living room and staggering out into the hallway. He tripped and fell drunkenly into the wall several times as he tried to make his way down the stairs and to the exit. He felt tears welling up in his eyes by the time he got outside, and before long he was close to actually sobbing.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” He was confused and all he knew was that he had to get back to the 'dome as quickly as possible.

Despite the time, the streets were packed with people and Newt had a hell of a time waving down a taxi. At least four of them passed him by before he finally managed to flag one down. His Mandarin was poor on the best of days and in his inebriated state it was downright amazing that he had succeeded in giving the right directions to the coastline. The ride seemed to take forever and Newt's leg shook impatiently the whole way as they navigated the florescent streets. It took another twenty minutes and three frantic phone calls to LOCCENT before he was given clearance onto a last-minute ferry back to the Shatterdome.

When he stepped foot on the slick tarmac his head was spinning. Tendo was waiting for him by the entrance, a lewd smile on his face. “Where ya been, brother?”

Newt didn't have time to be bothered with the Officer's jokes, and he shouldered past the man and into the complex. He vaguely wondered who was getting paid to wax the floors at a time like this, as he nearly slipped twice mid-stride, but his mind was racing a mile a minute and all he could think about was getting to Hermann.

Whatever had been going on an hour ago had started to wain. Newt noticed that his mind was a lot calmer now than it had been at the start, but something had to trigger such a powerful reaction. And since it clearly wasn't coming from _him_ , it was clear that Hermann was behind all of this. It had to be Hermann. It was the only explanation. The man was usually so stoic, so whatever happened had to have been bad.

By the time Newt reached Hermann's door he was out of breath and panting heavily, having to stop for a moment to try and get himself under control. Just as he raised a fist to knock, the door swung open from within.

Hermann was standing sullenly in the center of the room. At a glance, he seemed oddly composed – but upon closer inspection Newt noticed the red-rimmed eyes and telltale signs that the man had been crying. Newt took three steps into the room before wavering.

“Are you-” he began to ask, but the words seemed to get jumbled up in his throat. It didn't matter though, because Hermann seemed to know what he was going to say and he shook his head accordingly.

There was a strange chill in the air. Newt stumbled slightly as he made his way over to his lab partner, reaching out a shaking hand and pulling them both down to sit upon the bed. Hermann was tight lipped as always, his face set in a stern look of indifference that took years to master, but Newt was already so caught up that he couldn't stop himself before the tears started streaming freely down his cheeks. No words were said between them, but Newt begged Hermann silently for answers. The older man had nothing to say.

Newt felt so lost in that moment and he wasn't entirely sure why. It hurt that Hermann could hide his emotions so easily. It hurt that he was forced to feel this way even though it didn't even involve him. But most of all, it hurt that Hermann was _hurting_ and there was nothing he could do about it.

“I don't understand,” Newt cried after a moment. “Why is this happening?”

Hermann placed a strong hand on Newt's back. It was so unfair! He should be the one comforting Hermann, not the other way around! God, this was so sick.

Newt couldn't help himself as he began to sob. If Hermann wouldn't allow himself to feel, Newt would do the feeling for him.

 

* * *

 

Newt woke to a tangle of sheets in an empty bed. There was the uncomfortable crust of tears lining his eyes and it took him a moment to get his bearings. This wasn't his room.

“I booked us an appointment with medical.” Newt jumped as Hermann spoke up from across the room. He hadn't even noticed the man's presence. Hermann handed Newt his glasses before continuing, “It's in an hour.”

After a moment, Newt propped himself up on his elbows and tried to blink away the last remnants of sleep. What happened last night? He was so shitfaced and somehow he ended up in Hermann's room and-

“Oh god, are you alright? The last thing I remember is...Shit, what happened? I don't even-” He spoke quickly, studying the look on Hermann's face for any sign of acknowledgment.

“Everything is fine, Newton. Just some bad news, was all. Things have since been sorted. As for...what happened between the two of us last night...” Hermann smiled sympathetically, the unspoken words floating between them. “Well, that's why I booked the appointment.

All Newt could do was nod. This was so messed up.

They sat in silence for a while, both on opposite sides of the room and a million miles a part. Neither knew exactly what to say, but the same thought was weighing heavily on both of their minds. The scientist in Newt was fascinated by what all of this could mean; but the larger, more vulnerable side of him was terrified of what the answer could be.

When it was clear that Hermann wasn't going to say anything else, Newt cleared his throat and stood up. “I should probably go change. I'll just meet you down at medical, then?”

Hermann nodded solemnly. Just as Newt was about to walk by him and out the door, Hermann grabbed him by the elbow to stop him. Their eyes locked and for a second Newt thought he could see fear in Hermann's gaze. “We'll be alright, Newton.”

Newt nodded once more, schooling his expression into one of confidence before walking out into the hallway. He felt completely exhausted but a glance at his watch told him that it was nearly noon. It didn't even occur to him that this was the longest he had managed to sleep since that second drift.

 

* * *

 

Newt always hated going to medical. He hated being poked and prodded. He hated having a stranger act like they knew more about his body than he did.

The clinic was cold as he walked through the door and took a seat next to Hermann, who was perched at the end of a long row of chairs and halfheartedly reading an outdated edition of Scientific American. Besides the two of them, the room was empty.

Hermann was called back first, leaving Newt to sit anxiously by himself. He thumbed through the magazine that Hermann had left, the main article being an expose on the third generation of the PONS system. He nearly laughed at the realization that – of course – every magazine in here had to be at least five years old. Three quarters of the way through the magazine, he came upon a dissertation on the biological advancements being seen in recent kaiju attacks. A large photograph of Yamarashi filled the page and Newt nearly dropped the magazine. The beast seemed to come alive before him, twisting its head violently to roar into the sky.

“Newton Geizler?” Newt snapped to attention when he heard his name called. A young doctor – Dr. Shakir, he noticed absently – stood before him, clasping a clipboard in her hands. He shook his head, trying to clear the lingering howl of the kaiju, and stood.

“Yeah, that's me! What's on the agenda for today, doc?”

Despite his hatred for it, Newt was no stranger to medical – Hey, accidents happen when science is afoot! - and was relieved he'd be seeing someone familiar. Tehmina was usually quick with the wit, but her concerned look made him hesitate. “Come on back, Newt.”

He was about to crack a joke about how seriously she was taking this, but decided against it and followed her into one of the back rooms. Hermann was nowhere to be seen as she lead him over to the examination table.

“I'm just going to start by taking some vitals.”

The process was routine and clinical. Blood Pressure. Temperature. Weight. Height. With that finished, Tehmina pulled out a penlight and asked to look at his left eye.

“Still seems a bit hemorrhaged,” she mused. “How have the nightmares been? Getting any better?”

“Oh you know...they come and go,” Newt rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Well, Dr. Gottlieb told me you two have been experiencing some rather odd drift side effects. Care to elaborate on that?” She leaned back against a nearby cabinet, her expression stoic.

“Is Hermann alright? What did he tell you?”

“You know I can't answer that, Dr. Geizler.”

“Cut the crap, Tehmina,” he growled in frustration. “We're practically friends at this point. There's no need to pull the whole doctor/patient bullshit.”

“Dr. Geizler, you know that while you are under my care, the HIPAA laws-”

“Fuck the HIPAA laws! We're aboard a derelict military base, _in China,_ and we just won a war against giant monsters from another dimension! I don't think anyone cares about formalities at this point.” He sighed heavily. “And call me Newt.”

“Alright, _Newt,_ ” Tehmina drew out his name sarcastically, but a small smile played across her lips. “Have you been taking your medication?”

This time Newt full-on groaned. “Of course I have! This is so like you medical doctor-types. You come in here with your stethoscopes and penlights and act like you're actually about to figure something out – but as soon as you hear that some poor bastard is having an emotional breakdown your only suggestion is...what? Must just be his crazy acting up again!”

“You know that's not what I was implying, Newt.” She sighed and flipped through his file. “I know that you have had...difficulties, in the past. You know better than anyone else if the medication is working or not.

“You also know that drift-space is only supposed to be shared with somebody you are 100% compatible with. You drifted with your sworn enemy...and a kaiju.”

Newt actually laughed. “Yeah, but at least the kaiju are off my ass now.”

“Are they, though?” Newt flinched and Tehmina wrote something down in his file. “Do you remember taking the drift-compatibility test when you first enlisted?”

Of course he did. A group of grunts had sat him and a few other candidates down in a cramped trailer and spent hours making them fill out some generic survey questionnaires. Newt thought it was all bullshit – how could they possibly figure out how drift-compatible he was from a few stupid questions? It was a complete waste of time. Besides, he wasn't going to become a pilot; so why did it matter?

“And do you remember what happened when you received your results?” Newt's shoulders sagged. Yeah, he remembered that, too. “Somebody showing even the slightest signs of emotional dis-regulation is forbidden from attempting a drift. It's just too dangerous.”

“Yeah, well, I saved the world, didn't I? It's not like I had much of a choice!”

“I understand the pressures you were put under that day, and everyone in this base is thankful for your actions.” She chose her next words carefully. “But we're dealing with unexplored territory here. If it's true that the kaiju have a hive-mind, like you said, it's not outside the realm of possibility that their minds are not compatible with ours. In fact, I'd go as far to say we know they aren't. You remember experiencing the neural overload-”

“How could I forget it?” Newt rubbed the palms of his hands over his eyes tiredly. “We've done this whole song and dance already, Tehmina. The nightmares, the stress, the nosebleeds...we knew it would all come with this. But that doesn't answer what's happened between Hermann and me.”

“I know you know about what happens between long-time drift partners, Newt. How they tend to...share a bit of head-space after a while. I think-”

“Yeah but Hermann and I only drifted once! For like...half a minute! There's no way-”

“Would you please stop interrupting me?” Tehmina literally put her foot down and for a second Newt was reminded of Hermann. “I think the neural link between the _three_ of you was just too powerful. I'm surprised you were able to hold a steady connection at all. The human mind isn't designed for drifting in the first place, let alone with a kaiju. Add in your medical history and...”

Tehmina gestured with her hands to make a point. Newt was really starting to become frustrated. “So that's it, huh? You make it sound so simple. What do we do now?”

He wasn't expecting an answer, so he was surprised when she spoke up. “Any strong emotion felt between either of you will cause that bridge to try and connect again. As of right now, you're both in such close proximity and the link is still strong. I think with enough time and enough...space between the two of you, the symptoms you've been sharing should fade.”

“What are you saying exactly?” Newt couldn't believe his ears.

“You know exactly what I'm saying. I've already discussed things with Hermann-”

“Where is he? What's he got to say about all of this?”

“Dr. Gottlieb recognizes the severity of the situation. He's prepared to do whatever it takes to clear things up.”

“Clear things up? This is just ridiculous!” Newt jumped down from the examination table, straightening out his clothes in a huff. “You don't even know what you're talking about – all of this is just guess work! Where is he? I want to talk to him.”

“He's right down the hall, Room Three. But Newt-”

“Save it.” He shoved past her, only feeling a little bit guilty about the cold shoulder, and stomped down the hallway. He didn't bother to knock as he stormed into Hermann's room. “What the hell, dude?”

Hermann looked up from where he was seated on his own table, his cane resting on the cabinet beside him. He looked calm, but Newt could tell that on the inside he was stewing. It was all in the way his jaw clicked as he ground his teethe together and the corners of his eyes scrunched up with worry. Despite all of that, Hermann smiled. “It seems we've found ourselves in quite the predicament.”

“No shit,” Newt scoffed. “What did Tehmina say to you?”

“Who?”

“Dr. Shakir.”

“Ah, yes,” Hermann stood from the table, crinkling the thin sheet of paper beneath him as he went. He pulled on his jacket before reaching for his cane. “Hypersensitivity to an unorthodox drift, nothing to worry about.”

“That's bullshit and you know it!” Newt argued. He blocked Hermann's way to the exit as he tried to leave. “There's something strange going on here! What happened last night – what happened to us...I-I _felt_ you, Hermann. I was miles away and I still felt you. More than that, I-”

Hermann interrupted him with a gentle hand on the shoulder. “I know, Newton.”

Newt angrily shoved the hand away, glaring death at Hermann. “Don't say that! If you really know, then show it! This whole time I've been a fucking mess and you've just been standing there like nothing's wrong! I just don't get it! Shouldn't you...I don't know, be about ready to jump off a cliff or something? I can't be the only one feeling this way.”

“You're not, Newton, and that's the problem.”

Newt tugged angrily at his hair, his frustration building to an uncomfortable level. Hermann just watched as he stormed about the room for a minute, kicking the wall a few times and spitting out expletives. This wasn't fucking right! A few nightmares he could deal with. But this? What the hell even _was_ this?

“So does that mean that every time you're pissed I'm gonna fly off the rails? O-Or want to kill myself whenever you get a bit sad? This isn't what I signed up for, man. And what about you? Does this thing go both ways or am I the only one getting the short end of the stick here?”

Newt felt his heartbeat skyrocket. He stepped back, forcing himself to focus on his breathing. Now was not the time for another panic attack.

“I can assure you, this _thing_ undoubtedly goes both ways.”

Newt stepped around Hermann and further into the room, all of the fight in him now gone. He collapsed into the swiveling doctor's chair. Newt knew it was a long shot, but he had to ask. “What happened last night? You were so-”

“Vanessa,” Newt winced. Hermann was a very private man, he wasn't expecting him to be so candid. “There was a complication with the baby.”

“Shit, man. Look, I'm really sorry. If I had known – is everything alright?”

“Thankfully, but she's been put on hospital bed-rest for the remainder of pregnancy. I – There was a moment where, after I found out, I may have panicked a bit. With all of the stress we've been under, I was just worried that something...” Hermann cut himself off with a choke. “Either way, that must have been what you were feeling. I'm sorry for that.”

“Don't apologize, Herms.” Newt attempted to smile but his face only seemed to halfway cooperate. He had been so selfish this whole time, just focusing on what was happening to _him_ and how to make it stop. Of course Hermann was suffering. It was stupid of him to think otherwise.

A thick silence filled the room between them, neither quite willing to meet the others eye. Newt wanted to drown in that silence, but he eventually repeated, what was quickly becoming his new catch-phrase, “What are we going to do?”

And Hermann still only had the one answer, “I'm not sure.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I'm not sure where this is going. I just want to say - this is the first thing I've written in close to a decade, so please bear with me a bit. This is just my way of getting my feet wet in the writing world again. I feel like this isn't nearly as good as it should be, but that's going to happen when you're still getting used to writing. I promise it'll get better.


End file.
